


Trouble in the Street

by EggboyDraco



Category: Lowkey Voltron, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hate Crimes, Hate crime against LGBTQ, Just Keith and implied Lance, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Themes, Love/Hate, Lowkey shipping, M/M, Mainly about hate crime, No Lions, No team, Normal AU, Please Don't Hate Me, galra - Freeform, lowkey klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggboyDraco/pseuds/EggboyDraco
Summary: Just a drabble for my English homework that unintentionally became Klance.Look, it's not very Voltron-y, or Klance-y. It's just gay and about hate crime.





	

Perhaps I should've caught on. The look in his eye had been less than sweet. The stumbling gait promised alcohol. He'd been trying to catch my eye in the bar, now I thought about it. Yet I had been none the wiser. 

The air that met me was crisp and cool, which was a sharp contrast to the stuffy quarantine of the bar I'd been in since the late hours of the night. As dawn was approaching, the cheerful aubade of songbirds was stirring. I figured it best to head home, so bade farewell to my friends, who were smoking cigarettes by the door in an attempt to lessen their developing hangovers.

Staying out all night had never been a good idea, but I was celebrating. I had no reason to be fearful. If anything, I was more than entitled to having one night of reckless abandon before fitting back into the role of my mother's perfect child. A promotion at work, plus an upcoming birthday, gave leeway for that.

So I was enjoying my walk home, after catching one of the few early trains back to my small town, where you'd never think of finding any bars. I didn't think twice about the guy who left the club moments after me, or that the same guy had got off my train after sitting a few seats away despite the train being otherwise empty. It was only a few streets back to my flat from the station. Then I could tumble into bed and try to catch some winks before work began. Obviously, it never occurred to me that even such a brief walk was unwise.

You must understand, the town I live in is small, to say the least. So at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning, the streets are empty and the streetlights are few and far between. As I passed by an empty playground, a chill crawled across my neck like a ghostly hand. 

I suppose it's one of those places that's a throughway from one place to the next. A playground without children is strange, because its existence is not about itself but about the things before and after it, and what takes place there. Usually, you never see these places when it's not the right time for its intended purpose, so when you see it abandoned in the dark it's like reality itself has altered. It feels like playgrounds shouldn't exist outside of a certain time of day, with the context of playing children alongside it. 

So passing by this liminal space, with its stark emptiness and warped context, unease and wariness were planted in my mind. I became very much aware that my all-nighter had perhaps been a very, very big mistake. 

It wasn't too long before I was proven correct.

At the end of the block, I could see the lights from my apartment windows, on the first floor above a high street shop. Normally, this is when I'd swear under my breath because I'd left the lights on and the meter running. But it had been a while since I'd lived alone, and undoubtedly my boyfriend had got home from his night shift and decided to wait up for me. 

After a few more moments, I could see him through the apartment window, running his hands through his hair while he talked on the phone. He didn't notice me. 

Nor did he notice the man that was walking up behind me. 

"Oi, mate!" he bellowed. I glanced over my shoulder and quickened my steps.  _Please let him be calling to someone else_ , I prayed. But I immediately knew that wasn't the case. In my small conservative town, it was nine-to-five hours and no one except the rabble out after ten o'clock or awake before seven. Not to mention, it was the same guy who'd followed me since I left the club. My heart skipped a beat.

I was alone, less than fifty yards from the safety of my apartment and less than a metre away from a guy who clearly wasn't following me to make polite chit-chat. 

So I started running. 

Of course, I had no chance. The odds were against me. I had a long distance to run from a guy who was clearly twice my size, and I'd have to unlock the door to the apartment even if I did manage to outpace him. It didn't take a genius to know that one way or another, that wasn't good news.

Heavy footsteps were quick to pursue. My heart was hammering in my chest. I pleaded to whatever deities may listen. They didn't hear me. 

A hand like a club swatted my head and I crumpled, skidding across the pavement on my face. I groaned. The skin on my face felt like it'd been seared. 

I started to get up. He grabbed my collar and hurled me up and across into a wall. The air left my lungs, sending me reeling as I tried in vain to catch my breath. "Please, don't. I-I don't have any money on me. Only my r-railcard," I stammered, clutching at the hand still wrapped around my neck. 

The guy leered down at me. He was an ugly brute, undoubtedly local. I'd seen him in the supermarket before, as I was grocery shopping with my boyfriend. "This ain't about money," the man sneered, his breath reeking of cheap liquor. 

"T-then what? I-I haven't done anything. Please, let g-go and maybe we can t-talk about this." This brought a laugh, though that was too kind a word. It was an unpleasant sound. 

Then, a blow struck my head. Another to the stomach. They happened in such quick succession I couldn't even begin to defend myself. Blood dripped rivers down my face, shaking droplets from my chin and onto my shirt. I was shaking, breathless. 

"Help!" I yelled, frantically trying to push away his hands. "Someone, please, help!"

"Shut it you-" Then he repeated a phrase that made me understand exactly why he was targeting me. I suppose I should've known. Coming from a conservative town like mine it's unavoidable, and the fact he stalked me home didn't exactly improve my situation. And I immediately knew that if I didn't put up a fight, I was in some serious trouble. 

So I started fighting back.

A bigot is a bigot. And I refuse to lose to bigots.

By the time my boyfriend noticed me from the window, I was in bad shape. I was curled on the pavement in agony, cuts and broken bones evident in the odd angles at which I lay. The guy stood over me, worse for wear and bleeding badly from his face. 

As my boyfriend raced out onto the concrete, barefoot and angry, the guy took his time to spit on me before turning and running the opposite way, screaming curses the entire way. "Thanks, man," I croaked, resting my head back on the concrete. My boyfriend looked down at me, face pale and clammy with worry, before hurryingly dialling for an ambulance.

"C'mon Keith, let's get you to a hospital."  

**Author's Note:**

> I told you, not much Klance.


End file.
